


Her

by Banshi13



Series: Season 10 Codas [4]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Coda 10.14, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Medical Trauma, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22686427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banshi13/pseuds/Banshi13
Summary: “S’okay, Danny.  It’s okay,” Steve’s low voice was quickly becoming a comforting balm to Danny’s soul, now that he knew whom it belonged to. He coughed, sputtering a bit and spitting before wiping his mouth with a hand and hung his head, panting, willing his stomach to right itself.  Somewhere in between all of that, he must’ve said Steve’s name, because his partner was crouched low to the ground in front of him, talking as if he was answering something Danny had asked or said.“I’m here, Danno.  I’m here.”
Relationships: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Series: Season 10 Codas [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604164
Comments: 75
Kudos: 227





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Raise your hand if you were gutted by the end of 10.14. Because I was. I absolutely was.
> 
> Perhaps the worst part of the episode for me was watching Danny walk down the road after EMS and First Responders arrived. I thought of the song, “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” by Green Day almost immediately when I watched that. It fit so perfectly with how certain things have worked out for Danny throughout his life. It was a beautifully depressing episode, with stellar performances by Scott Caan and Kate Siegel. Even though my OTP is McDanno, I was so impressed by Siegel’s performance and I’m sad we won’t see her on the show again.
> 
> What happened after EMS arrived and Danny walked down that lonely road of broken dreams? I hope this coda gives you a reasonably believable idea of what could’ve followed. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> _Disclaimer: Hawaii Five-0 and the characters found within the series are owned by CBS Productions, K/O Paper Products, and 101st Street Productions. No profit is being made off of this work._

**Hawaii Five-0**

Crystal blue skies. Lush, green trees filled with leaves even in January, even has some of the branches hung over the road, bare and grey and brittle. A bright, shining sun illuminating an island which had, through time, become a perfect blend of local flavor and modern, American capitalism. The paved road became a dusty, dirt filled road for a few yards, before returning to the black top so many in Hawaii had become accustomed to over the last 70 years.

Danny saw none of it. 

Not the healthy greenery of the shrubs and trees, nor the welcome azure skies, nor the too bright light shining from the always too bright Hawaiian sun. It all passed by him at 45 miles per hour, unseen and uncared for.

He remembered walking down a road like this, away from the first responders who had come too late to get Her out. Her. That was all he could call Her, because he didn’t know Her name. No, she’d passed before she’d told him. Like an idiot, Danny hadn’t bothered to ask the woman her name before she’d succumbed to her injuries, to the impaling wound in her back that showered her lily white skin and the leather of the seat with more blood than he’d seen in a long, long time. Skin that he’d had his hands on, skin that bore his mark on Her neck that he’d carefully nipped at while settling Her on the sink of a bar’s bathroom earlier that morning. 

She knew his name though. He’d told Her, just before he’d watched Her look at him, see him, register him.

Right before she died.

He was in a car, Danny knew that. A truck. Steve’s truck. Of that much he was certain. A low buzz was reverberating through the cabin, and he felt the occasional, gentle pressure on his knee. Steve probably, touching him, trying to get through to him. But Danny didn’t want to be ‘gotten through to’. He continued to stare out the window, noticing his height above the ground, higher than he was used to and feeling even more of kilter because of it, being so accustomed to the low, swift ride that was his beloved Camaro. 

His Camaro… why had he left that at home? The memory came back to him like a paper cut, because the reason was literally paperwork that he didn’t have it now. It was in the shop for some overdue maintenance required by the state. After he and Rachel had decided to call it quits, Danny thought it was perfect timing for Hawaii’s Fleet Department to inform him that they were absconding with his car for at least three days, giving him no choice in the matter and telling him that, with the trauma he and Steve routinely put that car through that the Camaro should be in the shop for routine maintenance every six months, at least. That’s why he’d had that piece of garbage rental that hadn’t been able to stand up to a standard evasive maneuver on the road. And when had he gotten into Steve’s truck? Hell, when had Steve even gotten to the crash site? Danny leaned his head against the cold glass of the window and closed his eyes, trying to remember…

_The EMTs wanted to check him out, but Danny had told them to buzz off about five times before he’d finally snapped and told them to worry about the woman they’d failed to arrive in time for to save. And even as it came out of his mouth, Danny knew he was wrong; everything had been working against them, him and Her, since that car ran them off the road. It was hardly the fault of the emergency crew that Danny hadn’t been able to flag down a driver until it was too late. None the less, he turned his back on the man, a kid really, probably no more than 23 years old, and continued to limp down the road until he found a patch of grass that appealed to him and sank down. His ankle hurt, so did his chest and his head – a few bruised or broken ribs, a concussion, probably a severely sprained ankle was all he’d end up with when all was said and done, he was sure of that._

_Far better than what his companion got._

_Danny had seen gruesome crime scenes before, had witnessed horrendous injuries and deaths, hell, had_ caused _a few in his time as a cop. He’d seen bodies mangled after drunk driving accidents, and women beaten to death by their supposed husbands or lovers. He’d walked into gang executions (and had witnessed them – his heart constricted even more at the thought of Grace Tillwell, looking at him to save her as she sat slumped in a chair, bleeding out from a gunshot wound to the gut), had rescued victims of torture via drug cartels, and had fished bodies out of the Newark Bay that had been dumped by local mob families. He’d seen every manner of violent, abhorrent, grisly death imaginable, but he could not bear to turn his gaze to the right and watch the EMTs bring Her up the hill._

_So, when he heard the unmistakable sound of an industrial saw cutting into the car, Danny flung his hands over his head and curled over his body, willing the searing sound cutting through his brain to go away, but no matter how hard he clamped down on his ears, the sharp, metallic scream echoed through the forest’s trees, surrounding the area with its woeful screeching. Danny was sure he’d never be able to hear this sound again without vomiting-_

_And vomiting sounded like a pretty good idea at the moment. He flipped over onto his side just in time to lose what little he’d eaten and drank that day, including the sip of Irish Mule he’d tried at the bar earlier._

_With Her._

_He didn’t notice the shadow standing in front of him until he felt hands on his shoulders, and then one on the back of his neck. Those hands must have been connected to the steady, soft murmur of words, likely meant to be soothing but at the moment were just irritating. Blinking pain and tears and guilt away from his eyes, Danny caught sight of tell tale black boots, boots which had run beside him chasing after perps, boots which had very recently been placed next to his own patent leather shoes by the front door, boots which meant the one person Danny could half way stomach seeing was here._

_“S’okay, Danny. It’s okay,” Steve’s low voice was quickly becoming a comforting balm to Danny’s soul, now that he knew whom it belonged to. He coughed, sputtering a bit and spitting before wiping his mouth with a hand and hung his head, panting, willing his stomach to right itself. Somewhere in between all of that, he must’ve said Steve’s name, because his partner was crouched low to the ground in front of him, talking as if he was answering something Danny had asked or said._

_“I’m here, Danno. I’m here.”_

“Danny? We’re here.”

Danny jerked at the voice, his eyes darting around for a few moments before finally recognizing Steve’s driveway. The trellis was laden with vines and flowers as always – Danny knew Steve had picked up gardening as a hobby within the last few years, but he’d been truly impressed by just how much time his partner spent in the dirt, planting bulbs and watering roots and helping them sprout into the beautiful pink and blue and yellow blooms that decorated Steve’s yard, front and back.

He must have been staring for too long at the walkway, because Steve was suddenly on the other side of him, the passenger side, holding the door open and offering a hand. “C’mon, buddy. Come inside. Let’s get you in the house, huh?”

Danny allowed himself to be led, hardly feeling Steve’s hand on the small of his back as they walked up the sidewalk and into the house. He’d been in this house this morning, ready to greet the day, grateful to have a few days to himself to work through his issues, his mood, the funk that he was in. Rachel had the uncanny ability to put him in the sourest of dispositions sometimes, and while nothing she’d said or done lately had specifically led to his melancholy outlook, the fact that she and he had, yet again, failed to patch up their relationship and move forward together as a unit had been weighing heavily on him. He’d failed. Again. He’d failed his ex-wife, he’d failed his children. He’d failed himself.

He’d failed Her.

He was a failure.

“You’re not a failure, Danny.”

Steve was talking to him, and Jesus, now Danny was speaking and not even realizing it. He grunted, not bothering to meet Steve’s gaze. All he wanted to do was go upstairs and shut away the rest of the world for a while. “I’m gonna...” Danny swept a tired, blood stained hand towards the steps, and Steve stepped out of his way. He knew he wouldn’t be alone for long, knew that Steve would be up soon enough to check on him, but he just needed to get away. He’d seen Tani’s car in Steve’s driveway, and Danny might be slightly concussed, but he was pretty sure it hadn’t been a hallucination when he’d walked past Adam’s ride either. The last thing Danny needed at this point was to experience delusions, and as much as he loved the team, he didn’t want to see any of them right now, not Tani and not Adam.

No, definitely not Adam. Adam had too much explaining to do, and Danny wasn’t about to showcase himself in his state to someone who was more like a stranger lately than the man he’d gotten to know over the last eight years. As much leeway as Danny had given to Adam over the last few months, six to ten and pick ‘em, Danny was just as liable to punch Adam in the throat as he was to greet him with a wave at this point.

Steve went… some place. Outside, Danny figured. Wherever Steve went, Danny left him to it and climbed the stairs, which was a chore in and of itself with his legs feeling like they were weighed down with huge ACME anvils from the Warner Bros. cartoons. And he wished this was a cartoon, wished with all his heart that his legs would abruptly feel light as a feather and that the girl of his dreams would suddenly fall through the ceiling in a comedic flailing of arms and legs, land right in his arms and that they could get back to exploring that awesome, new connection they’d discovered.

But this wasn’t one of Charlie’s cartoons. This was real life, and real life had certainly been enjoying beating Danny over the head with a very large bat as of late. Or car, in this case.

He headed into Junior’s room, stripping himself of the bloody shirt, holding it his hands while he stared at it. Some of the blood was his, but most of it was Hers. That blood had been in her body, had been pumping, hale and vital, circulating through all parts of Her, flushing her cheeks, plumping her lips, lighting her eyes aglow with a mischievous glint Danny hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

Now, it was all over him, all over his crap rental car, and by this time, all over a black body bag, holding a lifeless shell of a woman who had been so vibrant and rich and full of life.

He dropped the shirt like it was a scorching branding iron, and his jeans and underwear followed. Later, he’d get a trash bag and toss everything away; he never wanted to see those clothes again.

Half stumbling, half shuffling, Danny made his way across the hall and into the bathroom and flipped the shower on. Even over the rush of the water, he heard Steve talking to Tani and Adam, and Quinn too, it sounded like, a steady baritone voice of reassurance that Danny now could remember being directed at him throughout the drive home. He couldn’t remember for the life of him what Steve had said, but at least he knew now what that sound had been following him home; it had been Steve’s voice, Steve trying to get through to him, comfort him.

Danny slipped into the shower, numb, barely wincing as the nearly scalding water hit his chest and he set to scrubbing himself clean. He watched as sudsy, snowy white soap sluiced over tanned skin streaked with blood, mixing together and sliding off into the tub and eventually down the drain in reddish, pink streaks. He moved like a robot, continuing to rake his hands and a washcloth all over his body until his skin was raw, even dotted with irritated, bloody dots from the harsh cleaning in some places. Danny’s eyes were stinging with tears and the headache he’d sustained from the accident was only growing worse with the heat pounding his sinuses, but it was still another ten minutes of quietly leaning against the porcelain shower wall before Danny finally switched off the water and stepped out of the tub and into a haze of steam so thick it rivaled the morning fog rolling off the Hudson River.

He managed to make his way over to the sink, forgoing a towel for the moment, and lifted a hand to wipe the condensation from the mirror. For a long while, he stared at himself, blotchy cheeks, red eyes, blonde hair wet and plastered to his head. There were scratches and cuts marring his face, and he could see an angry bluish, black bruise forming over his right eye. A closer look in the mirror revealed a mark on his neck, but Danny was pretty sure he hadn’t gotten that from the accident. He remembered for a brief moment Her lips, Her teeth, nipping at the skin under the mark playfully, teasing him until he’d had Her. She’d been as willing as him, willing and open and familiar, a taste of home, a level of familiarity he thought he’d only be able to ever get with Rachel until that morning. Until Her.

Danny threw his fist into the mirror so quickly he didn’t even realize it had shattered until he heard Steve’s frantic pounding on the door, his voice shouting his name. He was too busy crumpling over the sink riddled with sorrowful sobs and a sharp pain now throbbing in his hand to answer. There was a sudden cold rush of air behind him, and hands on him, guiding him some place, and that soft, soothing murmur was in his ear again, the same one that had talked to him on the drive home.

Steve.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Listen, Danny… I can imagine what you’re thinking right now, man. I know you’re hurting, and I know you; I know you’re blaming yourself for what happened, but you gotta know, Danny, none of it was your fault. You did everything you could. I know you did.” And Steve did know. He didn’t have to talk to Duke, who had called him to the scene only minutes after he’d arrived himself, and he didn’t need to read the police report that would be filed soon enough. Steve didn’t have to be told about the tourniquet Danny had cobbled together with the bungee cords or that he’d stripped off his own shirt to try to stem the blood pouring out of the woman’s back because Steve already knew Danny would’ve done both without a second thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Disclaimer: Hawaii Five-0 and the characters found within the series are owned by CBS Productions, K/O Paper Products, and 101st Street Productions. No profit is being made off of this work_.

**Hawaii Five-0**

Steve blinked his way through the wall of steam, waving a hand in front of his face to try and dissipate at least the immediate six inches in front of his eyes. Once he was successful, his first realization was that Danny was still naked, hunched over the sink with a now broken mirror staring back at them both, cracks spider-webbing this way and that along the glass. Grabbing a towel, Steve stepped up behind Danny, his voice easing his partner into to turning around so he could drape the towel gently over his waist before tucking a corner into the crevice between skin and cloth, careful not to jar the ribs that Steve knew must still be sore. Thankfully, Danny didn’t fight him, but he wouldn’t look at him either, averting his gaze as he heaved harsh breaths between tears, and Steve felt his own chest constrict. Forget the old CIA interrogation technique book; seeing Danny like this would be enough for him to spill any state secret.

“C’mon, come sit down. Sit over here, Danny, let me see your hand.” Steve nudged Danny towards the toilet and stuck his own foot out to open the door of the bathroom wider in an effort to clear the hot mist currently permeating the air. Once he was settled in front of a docile, slightly less hysterical Danny – and a docile Danny was never a good thing in Steve’s book – Steve gently slid his fingers along his partner’s hand, lifting it and turning it this way and that, examining the heel, the palm, the knuckles, everywhere he could see. There was one deep laceration running along the width of Danny’s knuckles. Blood smeared the skin there, stretching down to his fingernails and onto his palm.

“Gonna make sure there’s no glass, then we’ll get you patched up,” Steve continued to talk, not knowing if Danny was listening or hearing him, or if Danny even cared. He’d seen Danny in a bad way before – Matty, Rachel (multiple times), Columbia – but Steve had never seen him like this; numb, despondent, hopeless.

Steve gently grabbed a hand towel and ran it under warm water for a few moments before squatting back down in front of Danny. Gently, he ran the towel over Danny’s hand, carefully yet thoroughly clearing the blood away from the wound, knowing that he’d need to get the first aide kit and the antiseptic wipes nestled within it to do the rest. It was deep and it was messy – Danny must have hit a capillary bed when he’d swung his fist into the mirror – but not so deep that Steve thought it required stitches, and that was a blessing in this situation, because he wasn’t sure if he would’ve been able to get Danny dressed and out the door to the hospital in the event he actually need to be stitched up. He’d refused the paramedics to so much as touch him back at the scene of the accident and only relented to Steve giving him a once over with the EMT’s looking on over both of their shoulders. They hadn’t been thrilled about that and neither had Steve, but it was either that or Danny would lash out.

Just like he’d done a few moments ago, resulting in where they were right now.

“Don’t see any glass,” Steve looked up into Danny’s face, and his breath caught in his throat at the look, or rather, vapid expression staring back at him. 

There was no one home in that gaze. Danny had checked out. Steve took a breath, letting it out slowly before lifting a hand, letting it rest against the side of Danny’s face, still warm from the shower and peppered with day-old stubble.

“Hey, Danno. It’s gonna be okay, alright? I promise. You’re going to be okay, Danny.”

That… didn’t appear to be the right thing to say. Danny blinked at Steve once, twice, and then dropped his head, shaking it, mumbling things that Steve couldn’t understand. He watched quietly for a few moments before sliding his hand around Danny’s neck and squeezing it gently. “C’mon, Danny. Let’s get you dressed.”

Steve eased Danny up from the toilet and made sure the towel was still snug around his waist before walking him from the bathroom to Junior’s bedroom minding the ankle he knew was hurt and assuring Danny throughout the 15 food trek that he would feel much better once he was warm and clothed. Danny had indeed been making himself at home in Junior’s room, one by one moving bits and pieces of his belongings in. Steve could see Danny’s shoes lined up in front of the foot of the bed, and even though he didn’t wear them much anymore except for special occasions, Danny had looped several ties around a single hanger which was nestled securely right in the front of the closet. Steve poked fun at what he was sure Danny thought was a stealth infiltration of Junior’s digs, but in reality, he truly didn’t mind it. Junior wasn’t going to be living with Steve forever, and he knew that, and having Danny in the house all the time now, especially with Junior pulling reserve duty, had been something Steve never realized he’d wanted, or maybe needed.

And now, Danny needed him. Steve looked around for something casual and easy for Danny to tug on and found Danny’s sweatpants laying on the bed, where Steve promptly deposited his partner before rooting around in the dresser for some boxers. Danny was clearly in no fit state to dress himself; in fact, Steve was certain that if he left to go grab the first aide kit now, he would come back to a still naked Danny sitting listlessly on the mattress, staring blankly at the wall in front of him which Junior had covered in some kind of patterned blanket his mother had made him, as if it were a tapestry.

Turning around, underwear in hand, Steve crossed the few feet over to Danny and knelt, opening up the boxers and fitting Danny’s legs through the holes, not even bothering to coax him to do so on his own. Steve knew this would all go a lot easier if he just took the bull by the horns, so to speak, and dressed Danny himself. After pushing the boxers up, Steve slipped Danny’s feet through the sweatpants, and then urged both up at the same time so Danny wouldn’t have to stand up twice. “There you go,” Steve cleared his throat, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

Less than 20 seconds saw Steve true to his word and standing in front of Danny with a medical kit he kept in his room, because, well, he was Steve McGarrett; it honestly astounded him that he hadn’t yet collected an entire surgical center with all of the injuries and attacks he’d sustained in his own home. He grabbed a chair from the side of the room and dragged it in front of Danny, easing down slowly.

“Alright, buddy. This won’t take long,” Steve murmured, opening the kit and pulling out antiseptic and cleaning bandages. Danny still wasn’t doing much in the way of talking, so Steve filled the time and airspace with his own narrative of reassurance that Danny had done everything he could, that the team was waiting to hear from him, they were worried about him, that Steve had called Rachel while Danny was in the shower and yes, Rachel was fine and she would tell the kids, and that no, Danny didn’t need to call her back that night. She understood he’d need some recuperation time before talking to or seeing anyone.

Satisfied that the wound was clean enough for patching, Steve began to place small bandages over Danny’s knuckles before winding his hand with gauze. His partner had remained passive through it all. Danny was simply there, on the bed because he had to be, because that’s where Steve wanted him at this particular moment in time. Steve cut the gauze and taped the end of it to the main bandage, tapping it gently with a few fingers before sitting back, taking in his partner’s visage quietly. He had no idea where to begin, but he had to start somewhere. Steve rubbed the back of his neck.

“Listen, Danny… I can imagine what you’re thinking right now, man. I know you’re hurting, and I know you; I know you’re blaming yourself for what happened, but you gotta know, Danny, none of it was your fault. You did everything you could. I know you did.” And Steve did know. He didn’t have to talk to Duke, who had called him to the scene only minutes after he’d arrived himself, and he didn’t need to read the police report that would be filed soon enough. Steve didn’t have to be told about the tourniquet Danny had cobbled together with the bungee cords or that he’d stripped off his own shirt to try to stem the blood pouring out of the woman’s back because Steve already knew Danny would’ve done both without a second thought.

“Danny,” Steve gently lifted Danny’s chin up, and almost regretted it. His partner’s eyes were an ocean of misery and pain, unshed tears choppy like the sea just outside the house right now. The tide was due to come in soon, but Danny’s tide was close to breaking now. “You stayed with her, Danny. You gave her comfort, and hope, and you eased her suffering. Believe me, Joanna was grateful for that. I know she was.”

Danny’s eyes crinkled, confusion spilling out, the first awful sign of recognition Danny had given him since leaving the bathroom. “Joanna?” He croaked.

“Yea, Danny. Joanna. The woman you were with –“

It was a horrible thing to realize that Danny hadn’t known the woman’s name and that Steve had just opened that wound, had just made the entire ordeal more real, as if it needed any further authentication. He didn’t have time to ask Danny how the introductions could’ve been missed between the bar and getting into the car, because Danny was slumping forward, heaving cry after cry, and Steve just barely caught him as Danny finally unleashed the grief he’d been holding in, sobbing long and wretchedly into Steve’s shoulder, crying so hard he shook with the anguish that poured out of him.

Steve felt it on every level, felt his own eyes welling up, knowing that he was helpless in this situation. This was one thing he couldn’t fix. All he could do was be here, clean up Danny’s wounds, dry his tears, and hold him tight, so that’s what he did. Steve dropped his chin onto Danny’s shoulder, tucked him securely in his arms and into his neck as best he could, and let him weep.

“It’ll be okay, Danny,” Steve murmured softly. “It’ll be okay.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny didn’t remember how he’d gotten his boxers and sweatpants on, but he was eternally grateful for it now no matter how it happened. A soft voice echoed a name in his head that sounded suspiciously like Steve, and, yeah, okay. Figures. He reached for a nearby t-shirt with his bandaged hand and stared at it before remembering the now broken mirror in the bedroom. He was going to have to replace that, pay for a new one, and shut down Steve from telling him not to worry about it. And now, he definitely needed to eat because his hand was throbbing, dully, but it was enough to be annoying and that, combined with the headache that was, thankfully fading, was enough to motivate Danny to push himself fully to his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: Hawaii Five-0 and the characters found within the series are owned by CBS Productions, K/O Paper Products, and 101st Street Productions. No profit is being made off of this work._

Danny opened tear crusted eyes, slowly blinking in the early evening light until he could make out the faint outline of various pieces of furniture in the room. Beside him, a cool breeze drifted softly over his skin making him shiver before rolling over slightly, which he soon wished he hadn’t done. His head hurt, his eyes were dry, and his mouth felt like Steve had decided tonight was the night to play some sick, new-recruit-SEAL practical joke on him and stuff a dozen cotton balls down his throat. He was tired and drained and wanted nothing more than to lay there the rest of the night, but his stomach was rumbling, he wanted an Advil or 40, and he had to use the bathroom.

Pushing himself up just slightly, Danny grappled for his cell phone… which wasn’t on the bedside table. Groaning, he rubbed at his eyes and instead flipped on the lamp, finding his phone lying on the floor beside the bed almost immediately. The screen read after seven in the evening and Danny flopped back on the mattress again, feeling something like a gutted fish.

It wasn’t far from the truth, especially when the events of the day rushed back to him so quickly that he had to swallow down the grief that wanted to forcibly upchuck its way out of his mouth. Moving. He had to get moving, he had to get up, walk around, _get moving_.

Danny didn’t remember how he’d gotten his boxers and sweatpants on, but he was eternally grateful for it now no matter how it happened. A soft voice echoed a name in his head that sounded suspiciously like Steve, and, yeah, okay. Figures. He reached for a nearby t-shirt with his bandaged hand and stared at it before remembering the now broken mirror in the bedroom. He was going to have to replace that, pay for a new one, and shut down Steve from telling him not to worry about it. And now, he definitely needed to eat because his hand was throbbing, dully, but it was enough to be annoying and that, combined with the headache that was, thankfully fading, was enough to motivate Danny to push himself fully to his feet.

After getting himself together (and inspecting the mirror and how badly he’d damaged it – it was going to cost a pretty penny), Danny lumbered himself downstairs. Eddie was parked on the couch and the pup lifted an interested head, complete with floppy ears, before a grumbling greeting rolled off his tongue and he folded back up into a furry lump on the sofa. Danny couldn’t blame him; that couch had grown on Danny over the years, though he’d never admit it to Steve.

Danny made his way towards the back door, seeing the porch light on, illuminating the dusky sky in the background. Steve was likely out having an evening swim, and if there was any question about that, the white towel draped over one of the chairs by the shore answered that for him. Danny briefly contemplated walking out towards the beach to wait for his partner but decided food and pain killers were better than traipsing barefoot in the near twilight on sandy grass.

Breakfast for dinner was the order of the hour – simple and quick to make with little clean up involved – and he was just flipping the last pancake from the skillet onto the hot plate when Steve dripped his way into the kitchen, chest bare to the world with a towel around his neck and a t-shirt in his hand. A surprised look flashed on his face, but Danny couldn’t tell if it was because food was waiting for him or that Danny was out of bed and cooking.

“Hey,” Danny looked up for a second before turning his attention to the eggs he was currently scrambling in the pan. “Food. I made some.”

“I see that,” Steve looked around, patting his chest dry and slipping on the shirt. “How uh… how are you feeling?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m… my head hurts, my eyes hurt. I’d rather be sleeping but my stomach sounds like a tank rolling through a rock quarry and my head woke me up, so.” 

“Yeah,” Steve leaned against the food prep counter, poking one of the pancakes with his finger.

“I saw that.”

“You did not.”

“I did, I saw that.”

“What, what’d you see, huh?”

“You touched the pancake.” Danny turned around, skillet in hand with fluffy scrambled eggs ready for eating. “You’re like a little kid, you gotta touch everything everyone’s gonna eat before it’s all ready.”

“The pancakes are ready! They’re hot, they’re cooked, they’re sitting right here; how are they not ready?”

Instead of answering, Danny flapped a hand at him and turned the pan over, yellow eggs tumbling down onto the plate beneath. The scented wafted up and he inhaled, his stomach growled, and he reached for a fork from the drawer and…

Stared at the food.

Pushed it around with his fork. Turned some eggs over on each other. Glanced at a pancake. Thought about getting the syrup-

“Danny?”

Danny looked up, right into Aneurysm Face with a dash of bambi-worried eyes; he hated that particular combination. Danny did the only thing his brain knew to do at that moment, the only thing that it could conceivably handle – he dropped the fork and hung his head, suddenly overwhelmingly exhausted. He heard Steve clear his throat quietly.

“You know, um… after Freddie died, after my dad was killed, Mom too, I had trouble eating. I’d get really hungry, make a ton of food, then I’d just stare at it and wind up throwing it all away. Couldn’t stand to look at it or smell it. Made me nauseas.” 

“Yeah?” Danny looked up at him, offered a ghost of a smile, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “I don’t know why I’m… We didn’t eat anything at that bar. She had a shot of something and I had a sip of some kind of drink, a mule something…” And when they were finished with those, they’d tumbled feet over legs into the ladies’ room for dessert. Danny’s eyes slammed shut, remembering Her – Joanna’s – laugh, her scent, the way she clung to him… He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to remove those images, trying to shun those memories.

Hands closed gently around his wrists and pulled his hands away from his face, which was suddenly assaulted by a damp, yet still fluffy towel. Danny sank into Steve for the second time that day, letting his partner take his weight once again.

“What happened at the bar, Danny?” Steve’s voice deftly filtered through the rush of images racing through Danny’s head, his heart aching at every flash of recollection. “Danny, something happened at the bar. What happened after the drinks? Is that when you left? Did she have too much to drink, need a ride home?”

Danny shook his head, keeping his eyes closed. “We left the bar, but we didn’t leave the – we – it just kind of happened.” A morose laugh coughed from deep in his throat, managing to eek its way past the lump forming there. “We uh… in the bathroom.”

Steve didn’t say anything, but he didn’t really have to. His arms tightened briefly before a hand came up to rest between Danny’s shoulder blades. “She must’ve been a hell of a lady for you to lose it like that, buddy.” There wasn’t an ounce of condemnation or disappointment in Steve’s voice, and really, Danny should’ve known there wouldn’t be. He could only nod, because what else could he do? She’d been amazing, everything he’d been missing from home. Perfect. Too good to be true. Danny pushed away, pulling himself together.

“Yea, she uh, she knew baseball players and their plays from the mid-90’s – yeah,” Danny nodded at Steve’s surprised look. “She was from New York; she knew lots of different restaurants and holes in the wall that I knew about… Pegged me for a cop right off. She was…” Danny didn’t want to say it, so Steve did.

“Perfect?”

“Yeah. Perfect. It – we – were perfect. Until we weren’t.” Danny knocked his fist against the prep counter, considering the eggs and pancakes rapidly cooling on their plates. “I don’t know why he didn’t see us. I don’t know if he was on his phone or if he was reaching for something – I don’t know why. He saw us at the last minute, I swerved… I tried to protect her, hold her in the seat. We were both wearing seat belts. I don’t – maybe I over did it, over corrected – “

“Stop it,” Steve’s voice was commanding, like he was giving orders to one of his team guy buddies. “Don’t do that, Danny, okay? I know you. I know what you’re capable of. You’re one of the best evasive drivers I’ve ever seen, you can patch up field wounds better than some of the guys I’ve served with, you’re decisive, you’re trained, you know what to do in those situations.” Steve settled one hand on Danny’s shoulder, squeezing it firmly, pulling him back into the comfort that Danny kept denying himself, that Steve knew was more self-punishment than anything; he was known to do the same. “You did everything you could, everything you knew how to do with everything you had. I know you did… sometimes it’s not enough, Danno.”

Danny slumped slightly under the weight of Steve’s hand and his words. “I was thinking about Rachel,” he confessed softly, “about how we just couldn’t make it work, no matter what we did. I guess I was missing home, missing the way things used to be… and in comes this gorgeous, funny lady who gives me this million watt smile and tells me what kind of drink I’m gonna have and who took me out of my mood, and I guess I thought, you know, maybe there’s a chance. Maybe I can still have that bit of home, be with someone who comes from where I come from, knows what I’m talking about when I mention the pasta at Rosie’s or the worst seats you can possibly get at Yankee’s Stadium or the shit traffic on the Turnpike during rush hour. I went into that bar this morning thinking I was gonna leave in the same mood or maybe even worse, and in walks this lady and…” He swallowed, closing his eyes.

“And you were happy,” Steve finished for him quietly.

“Yeah,” Danny’s soft laugh belied the harshness lacing it. “Hopeful. I should’ve known better, I guess.”

He had no fight left in him as Steve’s hand slid around to his other shoulder and wrapped him up in a tight hug, both of them forgetting about the eggs and pancakes, long gone cold now anyway. In so many ways, Steve and Danny were polar opposites, but there was one trait they both shared: the need to make things right, the compulsion to met out justice, sometimes no matter what it cost. Steve turned his head just enough to ask, “The guy in the car; can you remember what he looked like? The description of the car, a plate number, anything?”

“Yeah,” Danny nodded, not moving away, his voice muffled as he answered. “Yeah, she caught the last three digits of the license plate.”

That was all Steve needed.

“We’ll get him,” he assured quietly. “I promise, Danny. We’ll catch him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was so much symbolism for Danny in this episode. I admit, when I originally saw the first preview of the scene with Danny and Joanna in the bar, I thought something was off about Joanna. She seemed too good to be a true; a girl who knew the name of the baseball player from a specific game Danny had watched? Someone who knew the diner’s and restaurants Danny frequented, a girl who was from New York? It almost reminded me of a mercenary sizing up their mark.
> 
> But throughout the episode, watching Danny and Joanna interact, and of course, Joanna’s subsequent death, I began to think about the symbolism. Joanna looked remarkably like Rachel – tall, slender, dark brown, short hair. When we meet her, she’s dressed almost exactly how Rachel was dressed the first time we met her (though not in designer labels): a button-down blouse with a pencil skirt – trendy, business, professional. She’s also very assertive, very knowing. She’s clearly a woman who knows what she wants, but also wasn’t afraid to show her uncertainty to Danny, who read her so well. 
> 
> The fact that she was able to relate to Danny on so many different levels provided a familiarity for Danny that he was able to be comfortable with, and we know from watching Danny that if there’s one thing he values, it’s familiarity. Intrinsically, throughout this series, he’s always looked for a way to get back what he lost ten years ago; his family, his Jersey culture, you name it, and that desire flares especially when he has just been through a traumatic event (see 1.18 w/Matt Williams and 9.12 with his daughter, Grace). In this case, that trauma was the realization that he and Rachel were truly over.
> 
> Joanna, in a way, was a chance for Danny to have the best of both worlds; a new love, someone who looked like Rachel, who may have shared similar traits with her personality, but who appreciated that New York/New Jersey culture and whom he could talk to about restaurants and stores and parks they’d both probably visited. She really was perfect for him, but she was also too good to be true, and too perfect to stick around. Her death, I think, symbolized (or will symbolize, eventually) the realization that Danny is never going to have his old life back, that every time he gravitates towards familiarity, towards his old life, bad things will happen, and that maybe, just maybe, it’s time to release himself of the guilt we know he continues to carry around re: his marriage, his family, and not being able to make it work.
> 
> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
